


Holding the Point

by Gileonnen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Objective Missions, Omnic Crisis, Reaper's Endless Gun Collection, Sex in Body Armor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: Overwatch is all that stands between an army of Omnics and a massive fuel cache in an abandoned construction site. This is not how Gabriel had planned to spend his evening.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by the incredible [Sath](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/pseuds/Sath); all remaining errors are my own.

The Omnic bombardiers broke through the barricade just shy of midnight, and their brethren swarmed to fill the gap. They moved between abandoned backhoes and maglev sleds in an unbroken stream, Bastion units grinding gravel under their treads, sleek androids clambering across piles of rebar with footsteps like hammer on anvil. Shells shrieked over the hilltop construction site and struck the naked steel beams. In the dim blue light of the plasma bombs, amid the skeletons of scaffolds and gantries, the hollow-eyed Omnics looked like an army of the dead.

From his hiding place behind an LED billboard that still cheerfully proclaimed _Mayfair Industrial Complex: Opening This Fall!_ in eight-foot block letters, Gabriel Reyes reevaluated exactly how fucked they were.

In the center of the site lay a massive fuel tank sheathed in three meters of concrete--just a metal hatch and an access shaft away from powering Pittsburgh's Omnic Uprising.

"Where the hell is the truck?" Jack's voice came in stereo, close against Gabriel's ear on the left and crackling in his commlink on the right. His hand was heavy on Gabriel's shoulder. His fingertips traced once over the logo on the shoulderplate, then slid away. Maybe he meant it to be comforting.

A stray shell struck the building behind them with concussive force, peeling plaster from the brick. Gabriel ducked back behind the billboard and hissed, "Liao, the _truck_ \--"

"Incoming," answered Liao, infernally tranquil in the safety of the ops office. "There has been a delay. We need you to hold the point for five minutes."

"Tell Reinhardt he has three," Jack snapped into the comm. "You heard 'em, folks. If they make it out with this fuel cache, we lose the city. Keep them in the killbox."

 _Would have liked to make that call myself,_ thought Gabriel, but now wasn't the time for power games. "Hold the line," he confirmed. "Buy them as much time as you can."

"Roger that, Gabriel." Ana. Somewhere up in that maze of scaffolding, she had a sniper's nest. She'd be lying on her stomach, eye to scope, finger to trigger, finding that meditative calm that made each shot easy as breathing.

Gabriel met Jack's eyes and nodded once. "See you on the other side, sweetheart."

"That had better be a promise."

No time for Gabriel to find his own calm. Only time to plan the next few seconds--choose his cover, hook a descender to his emergency line, then toss the rope over the edge and plunge down to earth.

He hit the ground and rolled into the shadow of a cement mixer, then came up with his pistols out and emptied two clips into a knot of Omnics, blowing them to smoking fragments. No time to reload, so he threw his pistols down and snatched up his fallen foes' guns. Overhead, he heard the steady chatter of Jack's rifle, punctuated every few seconds by the fierce keen of a pulse rocket.

In the pause while Jack reloaded, Gabriel laid down a torrent of covering fire. The Omnics shattered at the onslaught, shedding bolts and gears, leaking motor oil; brushed-steel limbs blew loose of their joint pins. It felt like shooting tin cans. It didn't feel real.

Then a bullet buried itself in Gabriel's chestplate with the force of a freight train, and _that_ damn well felt real. The blow sent him reeling. It was all he could do to catch himself on his hands as he fell and scrabble back into the shelter of the cement mixer, dropping his spent guns as he crawled.

 _Three minutes,_ Jack had said, as though three minutes wasn't an eternity.

Had to believe that the others would do their jobs. Ana would pick off the bombardiers and Jack would level the Bastion units with grenades; Torbjörn's turrets would pick up the stragglers. The three of them would mow their enemies down like grass before the reaper.

It was Gabriel's job to lead from the front, to hold the line, and so he seized another Omnic's pistol and squeezed the trigger.

A click. Another click. Fury coursed through him, rage obliterating cold fear. He bared his teeth at the nearest Omnic, then gripped the spent gun in both hands and brought it down on the thing's shoulder joint.

A bullet skimmed past his ear, taking the Omnic between its false eyes. The lights on its forehead flickered, then dimmed.

If he tracked that bullet back to Ana's perch to salute her, she'd be compromised. Instead, he grabbed the Omnic's gun and turned it on the tempting blue powerbox on the back of a Bastion unit. 

On the far side of the construction site, Gabriel heard the relentless chug of the sentry turret, the sharp hammer blows that kept the machine steady on the center shaft, and over all of it a distant stream of Swedish curses.

A cluster of plasma bombs screamed through the air and struck the billboard, which cracked under the barrage. Daggers of glass rained down as diodes went out in swaths, plunging the hilltop into darkness. A few shards caught Gabriel across the face, so sharp that at first he barely felt the impact. Blood streamed over his cheeks and into his mouth.

Another blast struck the billboard, and Gabriel heard the heavy impact of a body hitting stone.

His heart missed a beat.

Fuck the mission. Fuck the truck. Fuck holding the line. Gabriel sprinted across the gravel with his stolen gun clutched to his chest, willing his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. He glimpsed the faint blue glow of Jack's tactical visor, sickeningly still on the ground, and made that his guiding star.

He bulled into a line of Omnics and sent them flying--caught one by the arm and whirled it like a flail, flattening the ranks in a close circle around him. Steel rang on steel as he carved a path through the tight press of bodies. Couldn't see the visor anymore; had to pray that meant Jack was on his feet. "Jack!" he shouted. "Goddamn it, Jack--"

"On your six!" Then Jack was behind him, back pressed to his back. He radiated heat even through his jacket, even through a half-inch of body armor, and Gabriel drank in that heat as though he were freezing.

"I thought you were dead," he said, and Jack only laughed like a thing immortal.

"Takes more than a fall to kill me."

"Think a couple hundred Omnics would do it?"

Jack slammed a new clip into his rifle. Near enough to an answer.

In the distance, a clock tolled midnight. Twelve steady chimes, and on the twelfth, an engine's roar sounded over the din of the battlefield. Gabriel's head snapped up toward the remains of the barricade.

Headlights streamed over the crest of the hill, spilling between struts and beams in rivers of white and gold. Bastion units swiveled and showered the truck in a hail of bullets, but they bounced off of Reinhardt's shield. He stood braced over the machine in the back of the truck, laughing like a madman while the driver gunned the engine. "Let's _fight_ , you cowards!" he shouted as his shield began to shatter.

"Now!" came Liao's voice through the commlink, and Reinhardt raised one massive fist to slam down the button on the EMP machine.

The pulse rippled out from the truck in a wave of darkness. The truck lights went out; its repulsors failed and dropped it hard on the gravel. The commlinks died with a strange, metallic sound that made Gabriel's ears itch. The entire army of Omnics fell to the ground, their lights flickering and fading.

In the sudden dark, he could make out the light of the sickle moon.

He should have been relieved. But his heart was still racing, his blood pounding in his ears, and he still wanted to smash something until it broke.

For the first time since he'd swung down from the billboard, Gabriel took a deep breath. Did an inventory of his body, taking in the stinging cuts across his face and the nascent bruises under his chestplate. He'd live. "You took your sweet time, Reinhardt. Next time, should I come and push?"

"Precisely on time," countered Reinhardt. His delighted eyes glittered in the moonlight. "But I'd relish the chance to fight at your side."

Jack snorted and took out a chemical light, shaking it once and then snapping it until it gleamed. He held the stick aloft and kicked through a heap of metal limbs until he found his visor. "Damn. Cracked it."

"You're rough on those," said Gabriel. In the glow of Jack's light, it was easier to guess how badly the fall had fucked him up. His face was scraped raw on one side, and he held his left shoulder as though he'd dislocated it. A biotic field might help with the bleeding, but the nanomachines were as dead as the rest of their tech. "Are we done here?"

"Our pump has a hand crank," said the driver, waving them off. "Tedious, but it'll get the job done before these things wake up. Get back to base. We'll join you as soon as we've got the fuel and a new battery."

The insubordination rankled, but Gabriel knew enough to recognize that he was being offered a reprieve, even if it felt like a dismissal.

As Reinhardt and the driver bent to pry open the access hatch, Jack clapped a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. Only one comrade steadying another--until his gloved thumb brushed the back of Gabriel's neck, slowly circling. That touch did more than promise; it set every raw nerve alight with aching anticipation. Warmth coiled at the base of Gabriel's spine. "Looks like they've got this, Gabe. We'll do a perimeter sweep and head back when we've cleared the area. Keep an ear out for gunfire. We'll send up a flare if we meet anything we can't handle."

"Right." Gabriel grinned. It pulled at the new cuts over his cheeks, the drying blood on his skin. _Christ, I must look like I crawled out of a zombie movie._ He pulled away and dug up a pair of fallen guns from the pile of Omnics. No sense letting them go to waste.

They crossed the construction site with Jack's light to guide them away from deep pits. Foundations, Gabriel supposed, left unpoured when the world had gone to hell. Beyond that, a chain-link fence casting latticed shadows on the charred maple saplings on the far side.

Beyond that, the barricade: a tumble of concrete barriers and live ordnance that Torbjörn had thrown up while they waited for the truck and the swarm. Hard to believe that it had been so urgent to defend it only fifteen minutes ago. That he would've given his life--watched Jack give his life--for some shitty commercial development on a hilltop in Pittsburgh.

Hard to believe that anything could be as urgent as his own battered body, desperate for an ache that could be eased.

"In here," said Gabriel, pointing to a mostly-finished building with translucent plastic sheeting over the gaps where the windows should've been.

"See something?"

"No. That's why we should check it out."

"Your call," said Jack. His hands stayed on his gun and his light--consummate professional, even when he was looking for somewhere secluded to get off--but his smirk sent a jolt straight to Gabriel's cock.

They pushed aside a heavy sheet of plastic and stepped into the darkness, fanning out to clear the first story. Jack's light revealed the detritus of industry: pyramids of pipes, bare steel beams and curls of insulation, empty windows and doors, stacks of tile waiting to be laid. A counter and stools bolted to the floor.

"Coffee shop," Gabriel guessed, nudging a pile of patterned tiles with the toe of his boot. Green, brown, and gold, all of them bluish in the chemical light. "Kofi Aromo, judging by the color scheme."

Jack set his gun down on the counter. "Take your order?"

"Fuck you."

Jack tilted his head. The light sketched one side of his face in sharp, bright lines, picking out the groove where his lips quirked and the hollow beneath his eye. The spreading bruise where his cheekbone pressed against the skin. "Is that your order?"

Gabriel's fingertips were tracing the bruise before he even realized he'd raised his hand. He wanted to say, _I thought you were dead,_ as though he hadn't thought it a thousand times since the war had begun. As though every away mission, every sudden burst of gunfire, every singing shell didn't fill him with the same bone-deep dread. _I thought you were dead._ One day, he would be right.

Today they were alive, and today he dropped his guns and vaulted across the counter to pin Jack to the wall.

His shoulders hit first; Jack hissed at the impact, but his mouth opened eagerly under Gabriel's, and he lapped the drying blood from Gabriel's lips. He dropped his light to drag off Gabriel's cap and knot his fingers in the curls beneath it, urging the kiss deeper, sharper, fiercer. Body armor collided between them as teeth clashed, clicked together and then found purchase on lips. He slid his knee between Jack's and ground their hips together, straining for a rhythm. Jack tipped back his head, eyes closed, desire naked on his face, and Gabriel leaned in to savage his exposed throat.

On another night, safe behind the walls of a watchpoint, those kisses might've turned slow and savoring--but tonight, every touch kindled the deep bruises under Gabriel's chestplate, and every kiss dragged at the cuts on his cheeks. Tonight, Gabriel wanted to be devoured.

"Need to get you out of that armor," said Jack against his hair. His palm skated over the catches on Gabriel's ribs, then his fingers found the quick-release.

Gabriel brushed his hand away. "No time," he said. "Get on your knees."

"When we get back, you'd better make it up to me," said Jack, but he clipped the armor closed again and sank to his knees. He worked Gabriel's belt open and let it fall in a clatter of cartridges, then leaned in to mouth his hardening cock through his pants. The thick cotton muted the warmth and wetness of Jack's tongue, letting through only hungry, unrelenting pressure.

Gabriel combed his fingers through Jack's fine hair. The dim light bleached the strands white, which only made the gravel and blood on his brow stand out more. When Jack looked up, his eyes were dark with want. Gabriel's breath caught. "I'll make it up to you," he said. "Candlelit dinner. Roses by your bed."

Jack grinned, sharp and filthy. "I was thinking a few fingers in my ass, but I won't say no to romance." He thumbed open Gabriel's fly and dragged down pants and briefs together, then closed his eyes and swallowed Gabriel down to the root.

Gripping Jack's head in both hands now, Gabriel lost himself in the tight, slick heat of his mouth. Years of practice had dulled Jack's gag reflex, but he still made an eager, strangled sound each time Gabriel's cock brushed the back of his throat. That sound seemed to resonate up his spine, sending a spike of pleasure to the base of his skull. "I'll fuck you until dawn," he promised. Jack's teeth scraped the underside of his cock on the upswing. His eyes never left Gabriel's. "Until you can't remember what you felt like without me inside you."

He heard Jack's belt click open, the rustle of his clothing and then of his hand stroking his cock.

"There's nothing I won't do to you," Gabriel said, knuckles brushing Jack's jaw. He was close, now, chasing the edge of orgasm as Jack's hand crept up to his hip. "I'll fuck your mouth until you taste me on every breath. I'll ride your cock until your hand won't satisfy you anymore. I'll fill you up. I'll make you forget everything but how good you feel. How good I'm making you feel."

Jack's eyes slid closed. His breath came sharply through his nose; he rocked up on his knees to take Gabriel deeper, burying his face again and again in the coarse hair at his crotch. His features were taut with strain--brows knit, cheeks hollow, lips stretched wide to take him in.

He squeezed Gabriel's hip as though to say, _go on._

"I'll mark your neck," whispered Gabriel, no more than a rough rasp. He drove his thumb into the bruise over Jack's cheekbone and relished his groan at the sudden, sharp pain. "I'll sink my teeth in and rip you up. I'll write myself over every damn bruise and cut, until even your scars are mine."

With a choked cry, Jack came over the raw concrete floor, and Gabriel followed him over the edge. Ecstasy coursed through him in a scalding torrent, staggering him, bringing him to his knees.

They knelt together behind the counter for a moment after that, brows pressed together. At the end of the moment, Jack peeled off one of Gabriel's gloves and kissed the back of his hand. "Got a little intense there."

Gabriel returned the gesture, lips to gloved knuckles. "Good intense?"

"Good," said Jack. "But we have a briefing in the morning, so you'd better not keep me up until dawn."

"Roger that."

A breeze stirred the plastic sheeting, which rippled with a sound like distant thunder. Gabriel wanted to ask, _How do we just get up tomorrow morning and do it all again? How do we keep putting our lives on the line for construction sites and high rises? How do I go through life waiting for the day when you take a headshot?_

He knew that Jack didn't have an answer to that. None of them did. So he stood up, did up his belt again, and pulled on his glove.

He handed Jack his rifle and found his own pair of stolen pistols. When he felt more or less like a soldier, he tapped the comm in his ear. It crackled slightly, but the faint hum said that it was live again. "Liao? Status?"

"Fuel in transit. Omnics rounded up." A pause. "Did you find anything on your perimeter sweep, Reyes?"

Gabriel looked over to Jack and managed a tired grin. "All clear," he said. "We're coming home."


End file.
